Kindle Edition
Download to your Nook (eBook)
Download from Apple iTunes (eBook)
Barnes & Noble.com
Ron's Place
BookLocker
Category:
Historical Fiction
Publisher: BookLocker.com
ISBN-10: 1647199549
Type: Fiction
Pages: 302
Copyright: February 15, 2022
ISBN-13: 9781647199548
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Tor is the grandson of the Iceman who he kills in a fit of rage and then spends his life looking for his mother and clan. After many adventures traveling across Europe, he finally realizes that he has to give up his search and live alone.
[Please do not buy from Amazon. My royalties are half what they are at Booklocker and you can get a 20% discount by the code… Save20]
youtu.be/Wh6-4FlKC58 Click on the link to view the Trailer.
Imagine yourself at 16 living in what is now Germany along the Rhine River during the Copper Age, 5300 years ago. Our hero, Tor, grandson of the famous Iceman of the Alps, Albere, in the novel, The Kaleidoscope Effect, suddenly finds himself alone when he finds his father, Wor, and the Thal raiding party he is with killed by an old man in their sleep. There are two young girl captives escaping.
Thus begins a journey for this young member of the Thal clan whose ancestry goes back beyond memory of even the eldest Thal. Tor's father was chief of the clan, placing much responsibility on young Tor's shoulders. His first decision is to return the two young angry captives they were taking back home, instead of back to their encampment for trade or marriage. The coming of winter makes his decision for him.
While taking the girls back to their village on the river Po, Tor begins to think of taking one of the girls as his wife, like his father did before with his mother, Nila. But that thought, is easily foiled by her death and the death of many along the trail of life that Tor follows. Instead, he takes the kinship of a horse and a dog as his companions.
The story of Tor is one of survival in a world where one must be a member of a clan to survive, especially, the harsh winters. But Tor is already an experienced hunter, and has paid attention to many of his father and mother's ways. She was as strong as his father and brought many ideas to the Thals like planting grain from her childhood on the river Po.
As Tor travels great distances in search of his mother, he encounters many adventures and challenges that life during that time presents. The only way to meet these challenges is with skill and ingenuity, something that grows within him the more experienced he gets. Along the way, he gathers companions and lovers. Having many children insured survival.
If you think this is an epic story of a mythical fantasy like Conan, you will be disappointed. Every effort has been made to make the circumstances of the time as realistic as possible, given the revealing scientific information gathered from the Iceman of his life and times.
<-iframe width="300" height="225"
src="-iframe width="300" height="225"
src="https://youtu.be/Wh6-4FlKC58I" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen>iframe>
Excerpt
Tor: Last of the Thals
Ronald W. Hull
Table of Contents
Prologue 11
Chapter 1: Bitter Revenge 13
Chapter 2: Recovering Loss 19
Chapter 3: Finding the Girls 22
Chapter 4: The Bear 26
Chapter 5: Long Journey Home 30
Chapter 6: Homecoming Delayed 35
Chapter 7: Auroch Arrival 39
Chapter 8: Tragedy of the Solstice 44
Chapter 9: Leaving the Po 50
Chapter 10: The River 56
Chapter 11 The Trail in Spring 59
Chapter 12: First Encounter 62
Chapter 13: Gorge People 65
Chapter 14: Trouble on the Road 70
Chapter 15: Mountain Passes 74
Chapter 16: Silva 76
Chapter 17: Strange People 80
Chapter 18: Leaving Silva Behind 85
Chapter 19: Goat Boy Rescue 89
Chapter 20: Sweet Stings 94
Chapter 21: Horrid Homecoming 99
Chapter 22: Near Fatal Mistake 105
Chapter 23: Realization 111
Chapter 24: Boating Down River 118
Chapter 25: Genesis Conceived 122
Chapter 26: Genesis Replanting 127
Chapter 27: Winter of Discontent 131
Chapter 28: Spring's Revelation 138
Chapter 29: Branches in the Trail 144
Chapter 31: New Blood 154
Chapter 32: Revenge Again 158
Chapter 33: Black Forest 161
Chapter 34: Cave Bear 165
Chapter 35: Into a Hard Winter 170
Chapter 36: Summer of Searching 174
Chapter 37: Canyon People 178
Chapter 39: Revenge 187
Chapter 40: Tia 191
Chapter 41: Treasure Going Separate Ways 196
Chapter 42: Leaving the Black Forest Behind 202
Chapter 43: Returning Home 206
Chapter 44: Mission Continued 210
Chapter 45: On the River Again 214
Chapter 46: The Dane 218
Chapter 47: The Sea 223
Chapter 48: Remaining Nether Found 228
Chapter 49: Home Once Again 233
Chapter 50: Deadly Winter 236
Chapter 51: Show Me the Honey 241
Chapter 52: The Gals 245
Chapter 53: From Goat Man to Tragedy 250
Chapter 54: New Hope Lost 255
Chapter 55: Seeking Silva 258
Chapter 56: Tragedy Lingers On 261
Chapter 57: Return to the Gorge 265
Chapter 58: The Push North into Tragedy 269
Chapter 59: Return to the People of the Po 273
Chapter 60: Tragedy Strikes Again 277
Chapter 61: Moving On 283
Chapter 62: An End to Wandering 287
Chapter 63: The End of the Line 292
Epilogue 297
About the Author 299
Prologue
Last of the Thals begins some 5385 years ago with a Copper Age hunter dying on a mountain pass in the Tyrolean Alps. The Copper Age in northern Europe was a very brutal time and the fact that the Iceman lived to be an estimated 45 years old was testament to his survival skills. The real Iceman of the Alps, found in the 1990s, died a painful, slow death as he bled out from an arrow in his back. While seeking shelter from a storm that all but covered his body and eventually, encased it in a glacier, moved with it down the mountain waiting all this time to be discovered and revealed.
In my first novel, The Kaleidoscope Effect, I gave the Iceman that the scientists call, Ötzi, the fictional name, Albere. Albere is Tor's grandfather. He is a hunter, who, returning from a hunting party, discovers that his camp has been sacked and burned by marauders from the North, the Thals. Thals are hated and despised when they swoop down from the Alps every summer like packs of wolves to raid villages and settlements like Albere's clan on the river. Albere finds his father, his wife Nona, and his son, Jan, all killed. He doesn't find the body of his daughter, Nila, and assumes the worst, that she had been abducted by the marauders to take north with them as a trophy wife or worse.
Albere and the hunting party followed the Thals to their camp, partying on the spoils of their raid.
Albere had his hunters wait until all of the Thals had fallen into drunken sleep before he had them attack with vengeance. He, alone, killing several of the brutes by head blows with his copper axe, followed by slitting their throats with his flint blade and even strangling one fighting back with all his might. Albere recovers from his wounds but not from the pain of losing his family. He retreats into the Alps where he eventually, on that high pass, meets his fate, rediscovered five millennia later by hikers.
In chapter 1 of Alone? Nila, Albere’s daughter, escaped by hiding under the riverbank like her mother, Nona, told her to do. Afraid, thinking that everyone was dead, Nila walked downriver to the Valley of the Po where she was discovered by an older boy swimming, Aldo, and joined him and his family in a village.
Unfortunately, five years later, more Thals snuck into the village Nila was in and she was taken with two of Aldo's sisters from his family, Gina and Lena. They are all whisked rapidly upriver to the Alps and beyond. Fortunately, the son of the Thal chief, Wor, takes a particular interest in Nila and saves her from the brutality the others imposed on Lena and Gina.
Nila becomes Wor’s wife. They have one son, Tor. He begins leaving on raids with his father when he is 13. This novel begins when he is in his 15th summer on a raid that is way too late returning home.
Chap 1
Bitter Revenge
There were seven of them. Wor was in the lead. Now, after the leaves had turned and winter would be on their heels, they were late and moving fast. They had traveled much too far south to a village along the Po where they had captured the two girls.
Tor already knew much of the girls, both virgins, and knew that they would be traded with the Gals when they got there. He fancied one, named Gael, as his bride like his father had taken his mother, Nila, sixteen cycles of the seasons before, but it was not to be. Wor would forbid it. Tor was too young.
Although Wor was not much older when he became Tor's father. The way of the Thals made lives short. They needed every strong child birthed. A hard, dangerous life. Why he had no brothers and sisters.
Org, with a white mane and beard, followed behind his father with Gael tethered to him by a rope tied to her hands in front of her. She was followed by Ten, about five notches older than Tor, tethered to Rena, not as beautiful or as clever as Gael, but would still fetch a fine trade in essentials they needed to take back to their winter camp on the Rine. Hath, another graybeard like his father, was their strongest fighter and guarded their rear. Tor followed Rena because she was still a threat to run, although both girls, after tight restraint and strong threats, had begun to learn their place in life and had changed from cursing, biting and scratching them to obeying.
They had to move quickly, because winter was approaching and they were always imperiled if they ran into a hostile group of hunters, or worse, other marauders. They already bore wounds from the battle they had with villagers who had come after Rena and Gael and tried to save them. But they fought them off, killing two of them and driving the rest, wounded, away, losing the third girl in the process. They couldn't afford to lose another.
They passed an old man on the trail. He seemed vaguely familiar to Tor for some reason. He was scarred, tattooed and grizzled from his years, but his hair showed little gray and he walked tall and erect like a much younger man carrying all of his livelihood with him. He could have been a shaman who knew ways to heal. Tor immediately admired him for traveling alone, and perhaps, living alone. He wondered if he could do such a thing. Tor was so dependent upon his father, family and clan.
But the old man glared at him. Tor did not know why. He hadn't done anything to rile him. Perhaps his father upfront… Or Org or Ten had looked at him in a way that made him angry? But it could be that they were in possession of captive girls. Something that people in the South feared and hated.
Near nightfall, Wor announced, “We will make camp here,” and they made camp by a stream. The next morning, they would find their cache of mountain, winter clothing and supplies that they had placed there two moons before. And then, began their ascent into the Alps on a path they always followed, returning home through those perilous mountains.
They were running low on food and would need more to cross the three passes before they reached Gal.
Wor told Tor, “Go downstream from here out of the sound and scent of our camp. See if you can kill a deer or boar to resupply us for our journey into the mountains.”
Tor did not answer, just obeyed and left the camp. He had proven himself to be the best hunter of the group. Very accurate and deadly with his bow and carefully protected and crafted arrows. Not unlike those he saw on the old man as he passed. Thoughts of the man crept into his mind as Tor moved silently away from the camp to spend the night smelling the air, listening for the slightest sound, and hopefully, felling an animal that would come within range of his arrows.
*****
A rage rose up in Albere as he passed the group of obviously, Thal men, leading two young girls they had captured. He wanted revenge. He had taken it before and killed Thals when they sacked and burned his village, killed his father, his wife, Nona, and his only son, Jan. And may have taken his only daughter, Nila, too. Because, in all of his travels he never found her. But always kept looking, knowing that she would recognize him even as they both aged. They would never forget how much they loved one another. And he had killed since. Catching a Thal occasionally alone or asleep. He had no guilt upon killing them. Revenge had become his life since his family was lost. His life.
So, Albere stopped on the trail, and ate his food that he had gathered that morning consisting of some fresh berries, green shoots of wild onion, mushrooms, and a bit of dried meat of the wild goat he had killed on the mountain with his bow and arrows. Curled up and took a nap in the warm afternoon. When ample time had passed late in the day, he turned around and followed. Knowing that the marauders would camp somewhere for the night ahead and he had waited long enough before following so that he would arrive at their camp late in the night when they were sleeping.
The Thals were easy to follow because they stayed on the worn trail and their tracks were fresh. Even in the night, Albere had no trouble following. A strong smell remained of them. He knew it well and stayed on the scent like he tracked an animal. In his mind, Thals were animals, raiding peaceful peoples to rape and enslave young girls, and sometimes, young boys.
They were a scourge that had to be eliminated. Even if he had to do it himself, alone. Few that he knew were willing to go up against the brutish monsters that didn't deserve to be called, men. And none alone, like him.
Still, there was something in the way the young one he passed looked that bothered him. There was a strange similarity to his son, Jan. But he tried to put the thought out of his mind. He had to be true to his honor and save those girls. Take them back home to their parents. That was his mission. His purpose.
Albere heard them snoring long before he arrived.
Making not a sound, not disturbing even a single dried leaf, he reached the girls, each tied to a tree, sleeping and touched each one gently, while putting his hand over their mouths and his finger to his lips. First Gael, and then, Rena, recognized what he was doing and faded off down the trail after he cut them free and motioned with his hand movements in the direction he wanted them to go. Gael took the lead and disappeared into the night with Rena following. Albere knew he would have to catch up with them later and make sure that they made it home before winter set in. They would die alone out there with nothing but their sleeping furs and cloth shifts for cover and no tools even to make fire.
Albere turned his attention to the sleepers. To succeed, he had to be methodical. First, he approached the big leader in the moonlight. With his copper axe, he struck the man hard behind the ear.
And then, quickly followed with his flint knife, slitting the man's throat. Knocked out cold by the blow, the only sound was gurgling as the ogre's blood and life flowed out onto the ground. Albere chose the next largest man next, and did the same to him. Only the two oldest men remained. And one of them was stirring, it bothered Albere, because he didn't want to fight. Just kill. And fighting two of them might be the death of him.
Albere quickly moved over to the one that was stirring and jammed the wooden handle of his axe in the old man's mouth, forcing it open and smashing his tongue so he couldn't yell out, only groan. He slit the man's throat in a rather rough way that had him struggling even with his knees on the man's arms to hold him down. The struggle lasted too long in Albere's mind, but the old man finally gave in and struggled no more.
Albere’s hands were bloody by now but he knew he had to act fast, so he crawled over to the last man who slept through the ruckus and dispatched him like the others. By now, Albere was spent and shaking. He gasped for air and looked around at what he had done in the moonlight and the embers of the fire. There was one missing. The young one he wondered about. But he was too tired and sick to go after him. He needed to find the girls and help them before that young one did.
Albere rubbed his blood covered hands on dew covered grass. He cleaned his axe and knife the same way, slipping the axe into the leather loop on his hip and the knife into his pocket. He gathered up things from the camp that he felt he would need to provide for the girls, including some food and tools, hard to see in the dark, and set off down the trail to try to find them before they got too far or got lost. Albere didn't want to run into that young Thal, so he was careful to be quiet and watch up ahead as he walked as fast as he could. His heart still pounding in his chest and his head still reeling from what he had done. It never got any easier.
*****
Tor left the camp just before dark, he moved swiftly a great distance away along the stream and away from the trail they had been on, until he felt that the scent of the others would not be drifting this far down the slope. He pulled up under a huge tree and made himself comfortable where a game trail clearly came down to the stream. Tor was a light sleeper, but needed to get a little sleep for the long trek the next day. He kept his ears tuned to the night sounds waiting for the characteristic sound of boars moving through the brush or deer cautiously coming down to the stream to drink.
He heard nothing until dawn, when the first light came filtering down through the trees and there was a bit of a fog in the chill air. Tor heard the distinct rustling of a deer's hooves in the leaves and saw a small buck come out of the trees and down the trail to warily sip water. This one was ideal, because a young deer like this was easy to carry and had the best meat. Without a sound, Tor pulled back his bow and let an arrow fly true… directly into the buck's rib cage behind his front leg.
The deer hesitated a bit, and then took off, fast, across the stream and up the other side and out of sight. Tor, with a second arrow in his bow, carefully followed in case he would have to shoot again. But, a few steps beyond the crest of the stream bank, he found the deer dead and bleeding lung red blood profusely from his wound. He bent down on his knees and drank the hot blood directly from the wound. He knew the blood would give him strength for the difficult climb ahead that day and to carry the young buck back to his camp. After cutting the throat of the animal to bleed it out and drinking his fill of blood, Tor quickly gutted the animal with his obsidian knife.
The guts were nearly a third of the young animal's weight, so, after saving the heart and liver in his bag, Tor easily hoisted it to his shoulders grasping its four legs with his left arm and using his right arm and hand to steady himself and pull him up slope. He moved as fast as he could, carrying the young deer back to the camp where the others would be waiting to cut up the meat for their journey ahead.
Tor hadn't gone far when he joined the familiar trail back to the camp. Suddenly, up ahead, he saw the two girls coming his way. Tor yelled out in her language, “Gael, what is wrong! Why are you on the trail?”
The girls did not answer, they left the trail and disappeared into the trees ahead. Tor sensed that something was terribly wrong. He threw the deer to the side of the trail and ran. He wasn't chasing the girls anymore; he was headed back to the camp as fast as he could. It didn't take him long. What Tor found, sickened him. His father and friends all killed in their beds. Who had done such a thing? He had to find out. Fortunately, whoever did it, left a trail of blood here and there either on passing bushes, grass or dripping on the trail itself. It was easy to follow.
Were they wounded? Tor clutched his knife tightly and was ready to find them and exact revenge. As he followed, his anger grew and his blood pounded in his temples.
*****
Albere had almost caught up with the girls when he heard the young man shout out the girl's name and knew that he would be soon upon them all. He quickly slipped off into the nearby trees, waited and watched, as the young man ran past on the trail.
Albere was sick of killing. And there was something about that young man that was so familiar. He decided that he would not go after the girls like he originally thought or continue down into that valley. Instead, he would take the pass over the mountains to the next valley to spend the winter. He had wintered there before and it was good. Let the young man find the girls and take care of them. Something told Albere that he knew he would and take care of the girls.
Albere backtracked through the woods, picked up his gear, and dropped the extras that he had for the girls. And then, started on up the mountain. It was beginning to snow.
*****
Tor knew that he had to move fast. When he found the things that were dropped by the old man where he turned to head back up the slope, he dropped everything that he had except his weapons and began to run along the blood signs that occasionally appeared and gradually disappeared. The fact that he had not slept fully the night before left his mind.
He was on fire to catch up with whoever did this terrible thing to his father. Thankfully, it was only one man from the tracks on the trail, and he would catch him.
But the mountain became steep, it began snowing with a cold north wind in Tor's face. Worst of all, although he had feet that were hardened by going barefoot the whole summer long, the ice crystals in the snow were immediately cold on his feet, along with his bare legs feeling the cold wind more than where he was covered with his fur tunic. Tor hadn't taken the time in his haste to stop at the cache and get his winter clothing, including the fur boots his mother made him or his great coat. He was hot from exertion and anger. It was no excuse. It was just inexperience, and he knew it. But it was too late. He pushed on as the snow grew deeper and the altitude and exertion made him breathe in the sharp, cold air into his lungs.
Tor could see that he was gaining on the man. The tracks were less filled in by new snow than they were when he first found them. But the man had boots and would get away if he didn't catch up with him soon. Already, his legs were numb to the knee. He feared slipping because his feet no longer felt to grip the snow like they did earlier.
Finally, what seemed like a long time, he could barely make out the man in the swirling snow up ahead. It was the old man that he had seen the day before on the trail! Why would that man kill his father and the others! So, that's why he glared at me, Tor thought. He hated us.
But Tor in his haste, being unprepared, was starting to lose ground. He knew that he would have to return to the forest soon or risk freezing to death. He stopped. Pulled out his bow and aimed carefully. His arrow flew true and struck the old man high on his back near his shoulder blade. The old man didn't go down like the deer, but continued walking steadily uphill. Tor told himself, That will do, and turned around. He would have to find the girls before dark. His feet were bleeding and his energy was gone.
Chap 2
Recovering Loss
Tor's head swirled with thoughts as he stumbled down the blood spotted snow trail his feet had left coming up the mountain. He could no longer feel anything below his knees, but the cold wind and snow, now on his back, was more tolerable. What to do? What would he do? First things first; he had to get warm. Tor had to find the cache. But the landscape had changed. The snow made it look different from when he came through with his father two moons earlier.
But Tor had been taught by Wor well and had come this way three times before. He saw the cliff on his left just as the snow stopped and the rain began, and veered off the trail on the slippery leaves uphill again to where the cliff reached the lower slopes of the mountain. Here, a short while later, he came upon the time-tested small cave that Thal raiders had used for as long as stories told to stash their high pass heavy clothing, implements and weapons… Even sometimes, food.
Tor carefully removed the rocks and the ancient log that concealed the hiding place. A musty smell greeted him. He would have to travel heavy, not only for himself, but for the girls, if they were to survive cold weather. He found suitable boots, shook them out to remove any vermin, and then put them on his bleeding feet. They immediately felt better, warmer.
He found a bearskin cap like the old man wore, and put it on. Once again, immediately feeling warmer. He gathered two smaller hoods and boots made for captives for going over the passes and stuffed them in a bag. And then, he found a heavy winter coat that his dad wore, and put it on. He slung the bag over his shoulder with his bow under one arm and arrows and fire making equipment in the bag.
The stop to gather his breath at a lower and warmer, if still raining, elevation had energized and warmed him. Tor left the cache open and, weighed down by the load, started off with regret for his next stop. The camp where his father and the others lay dead. As he worked his way down the slope, careful not to slip on the wet leaves, Tor kept trying to think what he would do when he got there. He had to plan. His father had done all the planning before and all he had to do was follow. He had to think of what to do next and not make any mistakes. His survival depended upon it. No one was there to help him if he failed.
Tor arrived to find crows already on the bodies. They were pecking away at the eyes of Org and Hath as he yelled loudly and scared them away. Wolves, bears and other predators would arrive soon. Crows giving their distinctive calls not only brought in other crows, but were a signal to all that there was fresh meat to be had, already dead.
When he arrived at his father's side, Tor took Wor's bloody headband and retied it tightly over his eyes, all the while, crying as he did, apologizing. “Dad, I know if I had been here, I could've saved you all. I'm a light sleeper and would've heard someone coming into camp. If it's any consolation, I killed the old man who did this.” All his words met were silence, deadly silence now that the crows were gone.
By that time, Tor was crying so much his eyes were smarting from the salt in them and he had to admit to himself that there was nothing more that he could do. He took his father's stone axe and obsidian blade and put them in his bag. Leaving the bag behind, he gathered up possessions from the men and made two trips back to the cache to store them away.
These tools and weapons took too long to make and were too valuable just to leave with the bodies for scavengers to find. Each time when he came back, the crows were back, pecking away, opening gaping wounds in the already, stiffening bodies.
The campfire had long died out in the rain, so there was no retrieving embers for him to use to make fire the following night. Tor took one last look at the massacre scene that one man had done, and started back down the trail to find the girls. But before he did, he had to make one more stop.
The sun came out, momentarily. It was past the zenith. The day was halfway through and he had to find the girls before dark. Up ahead, he saw it where he had thrown it off… the buck. The crows had all settled on the massacre site so there were no varmints when Tor came upon it. There was no way that he could carry that deer, even as young and strong as he was. Now warmer and stronger at this lower altitude. The feeling in his legs and feet were back. He could even feel the rocks underneath through the deerskin boots.
With his father's obsidian blade, he quickly cut through the buck's hide and skinned it. With the help of the girls, it would make a nice cover for night. Then, he cut the two hindquarters off the deer, cut the tendons at the knee and broke the legs and hooves free… Casting them aside, he took a strong leather strap and tied the two knees together.
Finally, he found a tree next to the trail, and tied the deer's remains from a branch so that anyone coming along the trail would see it, and perhaps, need the meat. The bears were hibernating soon and would probably find it first. He took the heart, tongue and liver and put them in his bag. He would eat some of it raw if he couldn't get a fire started that night.
It took some doing to sling the two hindquarters around his neck to hang on either side in front and then get the bag, overly heavy, on top of the greatcoat of his father. Already, he was sweating. But it was better than being cold and wet. He was just wet and steaming from exertion. Tor staggered at first under the heavy load, but soon found his gait on the well-worn trail. He knew the girls were up ahead. They wouldn't leave the trail. It was the only way that they would get back home. To stay on that trail no matter what. Tor was counting on it.
Chap 3
Finding the Girls
The cold on and off rain. The trail was rocky at times and muddy at others. The weight helped him keep his footing so that he didn't slip. The mud showed clearly the tracks of Gael and Rena. He could tell them apart by their footprints, something his years of training by his father taught him to do.
But he wasn't thinking of the girls. He was thinking of his mother, Nila. She was expecting them soon, before the snow came to the Rine. Tor thought about turning around and going back. Taking that long trail over the mountains and all the way through Gal and then north to reach her.
But that was impossible. Very difficult for his father and the others so late in the year, and impossible for him. He cried. Only the rain felt his tears. But he was 15 notches and an adult in his world. The only thing now was to get the girls safe and home. And avoid their being harmed by possible dangers ahead on the journey.
And Tor thought of the spirits, the demons, that crept into his mind as he walked. The spirits of his father and others that he had let down and were no longer of the earthly world, but heavy on his mind. He would have to find a shaman to help him rid himself of those spirits, or they would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Every hour or so, the heavy load of furs and meat became too much. He was sweating and losing sight from the burning sweat running down into his eyes. When Tor would come to a clearing in the forest, he would put down all of his load for a short while to relax and graze in the nearby meadow. Looking for familiar succulent plants and mushrooms to eat to supplement the strips of venison he peeled off and chewed on as he walked. Evenly, so that the weight of both legs was equal on his shoulders. Tor needed a lot of energy to do what he was doing and his brief breaks to cool off, rest and eat provided that for him.
The raw venison was tough, so he would chew it for a long time, extracting all the juice from the meat, before swallowing or spitting out what he couldn’t.
But the afternoon waned and the tracks on the trail were no fresher. Tor was getting dog tired. The girls were moving fast and not carrying any load. Probably grazing, too. He would have to catch up with them in the morning. Something he did not want to do. Tor didn't want them out in the wilderness with no protection at night. There were predators about. And they probably didn't even have a way to make fire. They probably knew how to, but it was hard when everything was wet. He would not make a fire to save time this night.
Tor came to a place where the stream alongside the trail fell off into a deep canyon and the trail continued on the high ground. It was near dark and he didn't want to be looking for a place to bed down after dark. Tor veered off the trail where another, smaller path led into the canyon. A short while later, a cliff wall appeared on his left. Soon, he found what he was looking for.
There was a rocky overhang that formed the beginning of a cave. It only had eroded four or five the length of his feet, but the floor was flat and the overhang protected him from wind and rain. Tor laid out his father's greatcoat and made himself a bed.
Thoughts swirled around in his head for a moment about the dilemma he was in, but he was soon fast asleep, slept and dreamed like never before in his young life. Terrible dreams of his father being killed.
With him fighting them off and losing. Them? Just one old man. How could he do that? Tor’s dream struggled for an answer, but it didn’t come.
Tor was awakened by the twitter of birds and the sun slanting way too high and late. He muttered to himself as he gathered up everything and started back up the trail to the main trail following the girls.
The rain had stopped, but there was a crispness in the air. It helped with his heavy load, but he feared for the girls. He knew they would be cold with what they were wearing when he saw them, just their shifts and their small night covers for summer.
This day was like the last, but without rain. Tor doggedly followed the muddy tracks that were drying up by midafternoon as the wind picked up and his supply of water dwindled in the small goat bladder he carried. The stream was now far below in the canyon. The girls would be thirsty, too, and maybe, without water. His worries grew as he searched for them to leave the trail; a sign that they would be stopping for the night.
It was again near dark when he finally saw the tracks veer off the main track and the tall dry grasses broken and bent, not returning to vertical by the wind. Further on, their tracks were clear in the heavy new leaves and not blown away by the wind yet. He didn't have to go very far before he saw them huddled in the hollow of an ancient tree out of the wind, and perhaps, any rain.
The girls were shivering and very surprised to see him. Gael's eyes lit up and Rena showed a look of contempt on her face. Gael spoke first with what little language they shared. “Where is the old man who freed us?”
That question threw Tor for a loop. He thought for a moment. What would my father do? He had seen his father in tight places where they were outmanned and in danger. He had seen his father lie to get them safe passage and avoid a losing fight. Tor remembered seeing his father lie to his mother upon their return when she asked him bluntly about violence that he had participated in.
“Not now. I will tell you later. I can see you are very cold. I brought you things to make you warm.” Tor threw off his load and found the boots and hats that he hastily pulled out of his bag and threw them to the girls to put on. “I have to get a fire going and cook you some food. Do you want any water?”
With the hats and boots on, the girls rushed off to find dry firewood in the very wet forest. There was always dry punky worm-eaten wood up under old dying trees and they quickly came back with some so that Tor could get a fire started with his flints. During their long journey, Tor had often started their evening fire so he was very skilled and got a roaring fire going in a short time. Big enough to warm them and make coals for cooking.
The girls had found a spring nearby while looking for firewood. Tor gave them his goatskin bag to go drink some of that water and bring it back so that they could make herbal tea in his clay pot from what they had gathered on the trail. Tor set about cutting strips of the venison and placing them hanging from green branches over the glowing coals. When they had gathered enough wood for the night and the tea was boiling, the strips of meat were seared and they all had a feast that made them warm and sleepy from their hunger, exertion and cold before.
It was tight, but they laid the new deerskin as a bed at the base of the tree and they all huddled in the cavity with the great coat of Tor's father covering them. Even Rena hugged him tight to keep warm, but there was no interplay. Exhaustion and the food and warm drink put them immediately to sleep and they slept like that, warm and comfortable until the sun, once again, peeked through the openings in the forest where the leaves had already fallen.
Tor had to pee, so he momentarily left the girls and entered the chill air naked, tiptoeing over the cold, wet leaves to a place where he could relieve himself. To his surprise, he looked down and saw fresh bear droppings still smoking. Another kind of chill ran through him. He finished what he was doing and tiptoed back to the tree where the girls were. All of his senses alert for any sound.
They had placed the remaining legs of the deer up into the cavities of the old tree behind them before going to bed. The bear had dared not disturb them because he smelled their fire and their scent and probably knew that he would have to fight to get the venison he smelled.
The girls had cut two short green walking sticks, but they were inadequate. So, Tor moved off into the woods and found two straight tree branches that he quickly cut with his axe half a body higher than the height of each of the girls. He sharpened both ends. The blunt end so that the walking stick could easily grip the ground or serve as an anchor and the other end into a sharp point that would impale a bear that charged. His arrows, as lethal as they were, would not stop a bear charging. The spears that he made for the girls, would.
The spears were heavy; would become lighter as they dried out. So, when distributing the supplies to lighten his load, Tor made sure the girls weren't too burdened so they could all move faster along the trail. Rena complained about the spear, but Gael hushed her, knowing that those two spears could save their lives.
There was no time to waste. They moved quickly out on the main trail again where Tor saw the fresh tracks of a large male bear. The venison he was carrying around his neck was a magnet for predators and he knew it. If it came down to it, his plan was to throw one of the legs to whatever was stalking them, so they could get away. But they needed food and that was the last resort on his mind.
With the two girls in front and Tor following close behind, he tried not to listen to Rena's bickering in her language as she led the three halfheartedly, and concentrate on listening to the forest, making sure they weren't being stalked. With no words to express how he felt, he rushed up in front of her, glaring, and put his fingers to his lips. A universal sign to keep quiet.
Rena glared back and sullenly accepted Tor's admonishment. After that, she grunted and groaned as they walked along, but no longer kept up her tirade of anger. As a result, they were moving slower than Tor wished. But he could do nothing about it.
Before long, he felt something on his back and knew that the bear was following. He knew that there might be a confrontation soon and they all had to be ready. As best he could from his limited language, he whispered to Gael in front of him, “Bear coming… bear coming."
|
